


Jump, Jump for Your Love

by alexjanna91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: DH non-compliant, HBP non-compliant, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Violence, OoTP spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-02
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 12:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/331672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexjanna91/pseuds/alexjanna91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter had just jumped in front of a Killing Curse for him. A chilling ache started up in his heart and screamed through his chest. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't possibly have happened!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump, Jump for Your Love

**Author's Note:**

> I am not British so if there are any mistakes in slang or idioms that is why.

There were Death Eaters everywhere. Harry cursed under his breath as he darted back over an upturned table and fired off another curse not waiting to see if it connected. They'd come out of seemingly nowhere. The students of Hogwarts had been eating their breakfast when suddenly the whole of the Great Hall had been filled with black cloaks and white masks and malicious curses.

A pained scream distracted him for a moment before the wood exploding near his head cleared his mind and he shot off another hex at a robed figure baring down on a shaking first year. It was bloody madness.

"Harry! Behind you!"

Spinning around in his crouched position, Harry barely had enough time to gasp out a stunner before a mountain of a Death Eater completed his curse. Rolling away from his falling enemy, Harry jumped to his feet and darted in and out of duels until he ducked behind cover once more, shooting off spells left and right and center.

A sharp pain lanced through his shoulder and over his temple, but he ignored it. Instead he wiped away the blood threatening to blind him and shouted a cutting curse at a Death Eater about to attack Remus from behind. It was fucking bloody madness.

He didn't know how they got through the wards or even why they were attacking near helpless children unprovoked, but he was damned glad Voldemort didn't deem this battle worthy of his attention.

" _Serpensortia_!"

Before his eyes an enormous black snake shot through the air hissing and spitting as it slammed into a black cloaked wizard, wrapping its body tight around his neck and striking at his face with deadly accuracy.

Snapping his head around, Harry saw Draco Malfoy, wand flashing, Slytherin robes flying as he shot curse after curse off at the masked Death Eaters, each one a little more vicious, each one a little more impressive than the one before.

Fighting down his shock, Harry shook his head to clear it and jumped from his hiding place jinx after hex after spell popping from his wand's end like bullets. He couldn't let Malfoy have all the fun, now could he?

Once he had stopped dodging and diving he realized that not only was Draco not the only Slytherin dueling, but most of the upper years were out there with him. There were some pretty impressive Dark curses flying through the air and Harry resolved to learn at least half of them when this was over.

Following Harry's example, the other three houses switched from defensive fighting to offensive, popping up and down like prairie dogs, hexing Death Eaters in the back and the side and three on one. The D.A. was the most aggressive, but that wasn't to say that the rest didn't do their fare share.

Soon, the Order and the Professors and the students were gaining ground. The Death Eaters had started dropping like flies and growing increasingly more panicked realizing that the students weren't going to just run and hide, but were actually fighting back. They had the element of surprise and experience, but the Death Eaters were vastly out numbered once the kids got over their shock and began feeding their determination with adrenaline and fury.

They didn't really stand a chance.

Curses were still flying, but the Death Eaters had begun to retreat. Some grabbed fallen comrades before they activated their portkeys, some just split and ran, but there were a few die hards that kept on the fight seeming to never tire.

Suddenly, an ear splitter shriek cut through the noise of battle, snapping Harry's attention toward it like shot.

"Draco!" One of the remaining Death Eaters screamed. "You traitorous filth!"

"Shut up, Aunt Bella!" Draco sneered back, his wand almost smoking with the ferocity and strain of dueling with Bellatrix Lestrange.

Harry began dodging his way toward them, wand clutched in his hand as he shot off a few hexes and ducked a few more.

"You will die, Draco! You betrayed your own blood!" She raged, mask forgotten and talon shaped wand sparking lethally. "I'll kill you like I've killed everyone that betrays our family!"

A malicious curse broke through Draco's defenses and slashed across his chest splattering blood through the air. Harry put on a burst of speed, but it still seemed to be taking too long to get to them.

Draco nearly doubled over, free hand clutched at his bleeding chest, wand hand still spitting curses as he gasped for breath. "You fucking insane bitch!" He yelled.

"Die, sweet nephew of mine!" She cackled shrilly, breasts heaving nearly out of her dress as she pointed her wand directly at him and screamed, " _Avada Kedavra_!"

It seemed that time slowed down. Harry could see Draco's eyes grow wide, pupils dilated in fear as he realized that the curse was directly on course and there was no way it wasn't going to hit him.

Harry leaped, his arms thrust out in front of him straining to make it in contact with some part of Malfoy to push him out of the way, but he was still much too far away and the curse was hurtling, acid green and gleeful through the air. A sudden feeling of near painful compression made him gasp and he shut his eyes 'til it stopped.

Snapping them open again, he had the dim thought that he'd just Apparated inside Hogwarts before he collided with Malfoy knocking the other boy out of the way and feeling an inescapable green explosion collide with his own chest and spread outwards until his world when completely back.

*

Draco watched, numb, from where he'd fallen to the floor as Potter's body dropped from the air, like a forgotten marionette, with a soft thud. The entire Hall was dead silent for a moment before Bellatrix gave a nearly pained intake of breath and activated her portkey disappearing from the scene. The remaining Death Eaters followed after her without a single word.

Wide, suddenly tearing gray eyes continued to stare helplessly at Potter's crumpled, lifeless, limp body even as a sudden uproar of sound exploded around him. Teachers and students alike were screaming on fear and grief even as the left behind Death Eaters were being tied up and stunned and the injured fighters were hurriedly stabilized.

He didn't even realize that blood was still seeping from his chest wound as his mind failed completely to comprehend what had just happened.

Harry Potter had just jumped in front of a killing curse for him. Harry Potter had just died to save him. Oh, God.

A chilling ache started up his heart and screamed through his chest. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't possibly be happening!

Dimly he heard someone calling his name, saw Dumbledore crouch near Potter's body and press a gentle hand to his neck, heard the surprised shouts and flurries of action, but he couldn't bring himself to even blink his wide, dully staring gray eyes as they fixated on Potter's limp, wrecked body. He didn't even blink until he drifted out of consciousness, blood loss and injury claiming him.

*

"Draco, you must realize what a foolhardy endeavor this is." Severus repeated for the seemingly millionth time, his voice low and drawn and tired.

"I don't care, Severus. I'm not bloody leaving 'til that God damned prat wakes the fuck up and explains what the hell he thought he was doing." He cursed colorfully while Madam Pomfrey muttered and scoffed as she worked on repairing his chest wound.

"Fucking Potter. Only he would jump in front of a fucking killing curse for me without dying!" Draco hissed in pain when the medi-witch prodded his wound a little too hard. "Either he dies, or he wakes the fuck up to explain it to me! This coma shit is just not on!"

"Mister Malfoy!" Poppy snapped after tying off the bandage around his still sluggishly bleeding chest. "If you cannot control your language or your volume I will be forced to evict you from my Infirmary." She warned menacingly making the young wizard shrink away from her angry gaze. "Now sit still and be quiet. There are other patients that need my attention."

With a final huff she snapped her apron straight and bustled away without a second look back.

Sighing Draco ran a hand through his blood encrusted hair and looked back at his professor. "I'm not leaving until Potter wakes up, Severus." He repeated more wearily this time. "The bastard was prepared to die for me. I can't just walk away without... knowing." He finished quietly.

Eying his young student and friend, Severus finally nodded and swept away to assist with the less severe injuries lining up along the Infirmary.

Draco leaned back into the uncomfortable chair seated next to Potter's bed and closed his eyes, the dull throb in his chest echoing the throb in his head.

He'd thought the insufferable prick was dead, Draco remembered with a shudder. Potter had been hit squarely in the chest with the killing curse heading for him and he'd crumbled to the ground like a puppet cut from its strings. He'd been completely still, not even breathing.

Eyes snapping open, Draco darted them over the nearly lifeless body on the bed next to him. Potter was still deathly pale, but as he watched him, stared with frightening intensity, Draco could see the flutter of a beating heart in the pulse point at his neck and the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Fucking Harry Potter. The bloody Boy-Who-Lived. Draco scoffed and leaned forward to bury his face in his hands.

Twice Potter had survived the killing curse. Once as a baby in diapers and once as a seventeen year-old jumping in front of his inter-house rival. Fucking hero complex ridden Gryffindors.

Twisting his hands in his hair painfully, Draco listened to the flurry of activity in the Infirmary around him. Aurors interviewing students while they were patched up, healers brought in from St. Mungo's to assist with the injured, and the crying and pained moans from the more severely wounded. The battle had been a bloody fucking nightmare.

That's not to say that he'd been completely taken by surprise, though. His father had owled him the previous week warning him of an upcoming attack. He'd not been informed of the particulars, but had been briefed that it would be at Hogwarts and it would be the children that the Death Eaters were aiming for. Bloody cowards, Draco sneered into his dirty hands.

Of course, that had been the straw that broke Lucius Malfoy's camel's back. He'd murder, pillage, plunder, blackmail, and lie if it got the job done, but threaten his family and you had just made yourself a powerful, vengeful enemy.

The Order had been warned, Lucius and Narcissa had gone into hiding, but still the portkeyed Death Eaters storming the Great Hall during breakfast had been devastating.

Draco had sat at the Slytherin table watching the carnage begin completely stunned into inaction like nearly everyone in the Great Hall until a rogue curse hit Goyle just to the left of him. That's when he made his decision. He would have to thank his father for teaching him dueling and battle cursing from the time he could walk. It's what saved his skin and he knew it.

Rubbing at his face ineffectually, Draco turned his head and looked at Potter's still body once again. Potter'd fought well. Fiercely, he'd remembered from the quick glimpses he'd caught between shooting off his own curses. So had most of the older students, especially the ones that had been in Potter's little fight club in fifth year.

He snorted in derision and leaned back in the chair ignoring the Auror that was eying him warily. To think, Potter had actually been able to teach someone something useful. A flick of his eyes at Potter had him half expecting to see a glare on the other boys face for his thoughts. There was none.

Feeling an inexplicable sinking in his heart, Draco sighed again and crossed his arms over his aching chest gingerly.

"Why'd you do it, Potter?" He asked the still, sleeping body, not really expecting any reaction at all.

*

"Hey, Malfoy." A voice nudged at his consciousness. He ignored it.

"Hey, Malfoy!" It persisted with a light kick to his very expensive Italian Dragon hide ankle boots. Forget that they were currently covered in dried blood, that was just not on.

"Bloody what?!" He snapped, jolted from his dozing and his cramped position in the stiff Infirmary chair.

Weasley snorted at him, a wry smirk at his lips and a smudge of blood and dirt on his cheek. His shirt was ripped open on the right side of his ribs and singed around the edges. "Interrupt your beauty sleep, did I?"

Draco sneered up at him and rubbed at the crick he'd acquired in his neck. "As a matter of fact you did."

Rolling his blue eyes, Ron crossed his arms over his chest and cocked one hip to the side. "I don't think any amount of sleep would help your ugly mug."

So not in the mood for that, Draco just leaned back and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. "What do you want, Weasley?" He questioned seriously.

All mirth fled from the red head's face and he ran a hand through his hair suddenly seeming very tired. "I came to talk to you."

"So talk." Draco invited with a superior wave of his hand.

Biting his tongue on his nonexistent patience, Ron just nodded. "I saw you fighting, back in the Great Hall."

"Yes, well. So was most of the school." He cut in dismissively.

Rolling his eyes again, Ron just forged on. "Honestly I didn't expect you to fight. I expected you to tuck your tail between you legs and hide like the first years."

Now, that was just insulting. Draco was about to open his mouth with a completely scathing retort, when Ron held up a silencing hand.

"I'm glad you didn't." He admitted, eyes flickering to Potter's still body seeming unsurprised by the state of his friend, even resigned. It occurred to Draco that Weasley had seem Potter in the hospital wing and most likely in some kind of coma at some point nearly every year since they'd started Hogwarts. This was not a new sight for him.

"You fought... good." Ron finished haltingly. Draco snapped out of his thoughts and raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

"Thank you, Weasley." He said after a time. "You as well."

They lapsed into silence, both absently staring down at Potter's deathly still body until Draco spoke. "Does he always jump in front of killing curses for his mortal enemies?" He asked nonchalantly.

Weasley snorted then ran a hand through his wild hair again. "Yeah, that's our Harry." He glanced back to Malfoy, taking in his bloody bandaged chest and his perch in the uncomfortable Infirmary chair. "You holding vigil, then?" He asked neutrally, both of them deciding to put their rivalry aside for the time being.

Draco nodded and hooked his arms over the back of the chair to hang loosely at his sides, ignoring the pull that caused in his wound. "Are you thinking of joining me? I believe Potter owes me one hell of an explanation."

A deep, full barrel laugh rumbled up through Ron's chest as he pulled up another chair and plopped down into it. "Get in line, Ferret-face."

"Weasel-breath."

*

The next time their silent truce was interrupted it was by a house-elf charged with delivering sandwiches for lunch. There was still a mass of activity around the Infirmary in the form of more Ministry Aurors, every Order member that wasn't planning retaliation with Dumbledore, and what seemed like half the healers from St. Mungo's.

Draco and Ron split the four sandwiches between them and finished half their pitcher of Pumpkin juice before Draco finally noticed someone was missing.

"Where's the- Granger? I would have thought she'd want to be here?"

Ron ignored his near slip and downed the rest of his juice in one go. "Hermione's with the Professors and some of the Ministry wizards. They're trying to figure out how to portkey proof the wards."

That made sense. Granger had always been insufferably intelligent. "That would probably be a good idea." He sneered contemptuously. "It's not like this is the first time the Dark Lord has used portkeys to get around the school's protections."

Weasley didn't say as much, but Draco knew he agreed. An oversight that had twice devastated the side of light.

They continued discussing the battle, possible plans the Order or the Ministry might take to retaliate, and the casualties.

"None of the students were really seriously hurt." Ron was telling him. He'd gotten briefed while Draco had been sitting beside Potters almost-corpse. "Mostly just burns, broken bones, nearly permanent boils, couple of nasty cutting curses on the younger ones. Terry Boot was blinded by some Dark curse and Luna got most of her hair singed off. Course, she doesn't seem to mind. Keeps nattering on about getting a Mohawk or something loony like that."

Draco listened to him idly, noting which Slytherins were injured and making a silent promise to visit them when Potter woke up.

They passed the time relatively companionably that way. Speaking of serious things that left little to no room for insults and fighting.

Soon the Infirmary doors opened to reveal a harried and slightly bruised Hermione Granger. She looked exhausted, but the glint in her eyes told Draco that she had no intention of succumbing anytime soon.

She joined their vigil with little to no problem, just seating herself on the floor and leaning back on Ron's legs tiredly, her wild hair falling around her shoulders in tangles. One look at Potter's still body had her hissing in anger and grief.

"If he ever wakes up I'm going to fucking kill him." She darted a quick look at Draco and flashed him an apologetic smile. "No offense."

Draco just snorted at her and waved it off. "None taken. I have a bone to pick with Scare-head as well. Get in line." Ron just quirked an amused grin at them both and buried his fingers in his girlfriends hair.

They remained that way until the Minster arrived.

*

"I will not have this! This is just not done, Dumbledore!" Fudge was fuming and, Draco suspected, a huff away from stomping his foot petulantly.

"Cornelius." Dumbledore's voice rang through the Infirmary with knee melting authority. "This is my school and I will not have you threatening my students."

"I'm the bloody Minster of Magic, Dumbledore!" The little chubby man shrieked. Draco flinched away from the shrill pitch, though he couldn't go very far seeing as how he had two burly Aurors gripping his arms and his hands were magically cuffed in front of him.

"I am taking that boy into custody." Fudge continued on. "He will be interrogated under Veritaserum and I will get to the bottom of this attack!"

"I think not." The headmaster said almost too calmly for Draco's piece of mind. Really, he was being arrested under suspicion of helping the Death Eaters infiltrate Hogwarts. If Fudge had his way he'd be thrown in Azkaban never to be heard from again.

"Mister Malfoy and his family have been an invaluable help to our fight against Lord Voldemort." That was somewhat of an overstatement, but Draco wasn't going to correct him. "Your accusations of his treachery are completely unfounded."

Fudge opened his mouth to argue and Draco could feel Weasley and Granger tense behind him. The looks on their faces when the Minister had burst through the door with his own personal Aurors had been frightening. He could just make out them pulling their wands from their holsters from the corner of his eye.

"The boy is the son of a known Death Eater. One of You-Know-Who's most trusted followers. I will not have him running around loose where he could cause even more trouble."

"Mister Malfoy is not going with you, Cornelius." Dumbledore's voice dropped low and cold. "Either you consent to discuss the possibility of a formal statement being taking from Mister Malfoy in my office or I will be forced to evict you and ever single Auror from Hogwarts grounds."

The two burly Aurors keeping Draco in place reminded him strangely of Crabbe and Goyle as they growled menacingly at the headmaster. Stupid fools didn't know a bigger predator when they saw one. Draco was almost sorry for them. Almost.

"You cannot order me around, Dumbledore!" Fudge shrieked like a little girl throwing a tantrum, his face turning red and everything. "I will be taking this little scu-"

"If I may, Minister." A large black Auror stepped forward with an almost imperceptible meaningful look shared with the headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore is perhaps right. There is no reason to believe that Draco Malfoy had any part in the battle other than to defend his fellow students and the school. Simply taking his statement should suffice. I see no reason why we need to arrest him under conspiracy to commit such a crime."

Draco wasn't filled with instant hatred for the black Auror. He quickly flicked his eyes to the Auror's left shoulder and noted that he was, in fact, the Head Auror, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Flicking his eyes back and forth between him and Dumbledore, Draco came to the conclusion that they worked together in some kind of capacity beyond Auror and headmaster.

Fudge opened and closed his mouth several times, like a fish. before actually stomping his foot indignantly, his fists clinched. "You cannot possibly tell me that Harry Potter jumped in front of a killing curse for this dirty little traitor without being compelled or confunded or bloody well accioed or something! It's just not possible!"

"That is exactly what happened, Minister." A cold cruel voice echoed from behind the group near the doors. "If you value your post and your life you will unhand my son at once."

Every head snapped around and Draco's eyes widened in astonishment and happiness. "Father! Mother!"

Fudge spent a moment staring bug eyed and frightened at Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape standing inside the Infirmary doors before blustered and sputtered. "Seize them! Arrest them!"

Feeling a spike of irrational fear shoot through his chest, Draco began struggling with his captors. "No!" He yelled. "Don't!"

Wands were drawn, a couple stunners were shot off then easily blocked, and Draco was punched in the gut by one of the thug Aurors holding him in place. It reopened his chest wound, making him cry out in outraged pain.

" _Stupify_!"

" _Expelliarmus_!"

Ron and Hermione shouted, dropping one of Draco's captors and blasting the other one into the stone wall to fall unconscious to the floor.

Ron caught Draco before he could fall himself. "You alright, Malfoy? Fucking git, punched you in the stomach!"

Draco groaned and coughed feeling his reopened wound start to bleed freely again. "Fucking shit, that hurt!"

"Enough!" A booming voice rang out in the Infirmary followed closely by an ear splitting explosion stopping everyone in their tracks.

Dumbledore looked so completely outraged that everyone smart enough to fear for their lives did.

"I am hereby banishing you and your personal Aurors from the Hogwarts grounds until further notice, Cornelius Fudge, Minster of Magic to the United Kingdom. You will be expelled from the castle forcefully and viciously repelled should you attempt to reenter before an invitation has been extended." Dumbledore declared formally and coldly. "Good day to you."

And just like that the Minster of Magic disappeared with a surprised crack along with his two thug Aurors and most of the rest of them. The only remaining Aurors were Shacklebolt and a witch with bright magenta hair.

There was a shocked silence, until Dumbledore visibly shrank back into his batty old coot shell and turned to beam benignly at his new visitors.

"Ah! Mister and Missus Malfoy." He smiled welcomingly. "I do hope your journey was not been too terribly tiring."

They stared at him in astonishment for a moment before Narcissa caught sight of her son's palled expression of pain and rushed toward him.

"Draco, darling!" She exclaimed tearing him away from Ron's supporting hold. "You're injured! Oh, my love, you must sit down. Madam Pomfrey! Madam Pomfrey!" She yelled over the din of healers and patients.

Struggling to get a better look at her son's injury she quickly grew frustrated with his magical restraints and slashed her wand at them viciously banishing them to who knows where.

Draco allowed the fussing and re-bandaging only long enough to assuage his mother's fear until he ducked away from her clutching hands and stood to grab his father up in a hug.

"I thought you both went into hiding." He said looking from his mother to his father.

"We did." Lucius nodded letting his son go to regard the headmaster calculatingly. "Professor Dumbledore sent us a patronus suggesting that it might be best for us to come out of hiding and make our way to the castle."

The telling of the battle was given, the progress of retaliation was told, and Lucius was drilled by Snape and Dumbledore both on any plans Voldemort might be making.

All through it, Draco resumed his place in the chair next to Potter's bed along with Ron and Hermione. None of them mentioned their jumping to Draco's aid in the heat of fury and chaos. It was plain that they, all three of them, had come to an understanding.

Finally Dumbledore ushered the adults out of the Infirmary to continue their planning and their discussions leaving Draco, Ron, and Hermione to their vigil at Potter's side.

Draco watched the activity around them. There were students, Aurors, and Order members alike being treated and helping treat while he let his thoughts whirl around in his head.

He and Potter had always been at each others throats. Always waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Neither of them willing to give up or admit defeat. They'd hated each other, held scads of disdain and scorn for one another for the entirety of their knowing one another. So, why had Potter even tried to save him from certain death?

An answer, he couldn't fathom. He had no idea as to why.

Flicking his eyes over Potter's face he marked every bruise that had just started to purple and yellow his tanned skin. He had a split lip, but no blood to show for it. Pomfrey must have already cleaned it away. There, the infamous scar on his forehead.

Draco had once hated that scar. It had represented to him everything that Harry was and he wasn't. Famous, powerful, worshiped, respected... Now it just gave Draco an awful sinking feeling in his chest. Would Potter get another lightning bolt scar on his chest where dear Aunt Bella had cursed him?

He didn't know, and frankly didn't particularly care. Now that he'd grown up some, not much mind, but some, Draco realized that scar was more of a curse than a blessing. He didn't envy Potter the Dark Lord's attention.

Why had Potter risked his life to save him?

It always came back to that question and until Draco got his answers it always would.

His eyes slid away from Potter's thick eyelashes fanned over his tanned, pale cheeks intending to go back to observing the room at large only to pause when another scar caught his eye.

"I must not tell lies." It read.

Umbridge, Draco thought with a silent sneer. That woman had been vile even after all the freedom she'd afforded the Slytherins. Had he not been such a spoiled child intent on orchestrating Potter's down fall, Draco would have been intent on Umbridge's. He'd always had a healthy disdain for authority when it wasn't his own.

Because Potter had kept to his convictions and refused to yield he would forever carry the scars of his determination on his right hand. I must not tell lies.

Draco snorted in wry amusement and tore his eyes away from Potter's hand. Fine, then he wouldn't lie. He'd found that, for sometime now, that Potter was somewhat worthy of respect. Draco would have been an imbecile not to recognize that he inspired loyalty and bravery.

Despite being a royal pain in Draco's arse and a completely insufferable git, Harry Potter had many traits that Draco respected and admired. God forbid he actually say that out loud, though. Draco would have to kill someone if they ever found out that he admired the Boy-Who-Lived.

Their animosity had cooled in resent months, over the past school year. Neither of them had put much effort into. Maybe they'd grown up? Maybe they both had bigger fish to fry than a silly boyhood rivalry?

Maybe they'd simply seen something in each other that they'd respected?

Either way, or no way, Draco had been deadly sure that if that killing curse had actually been aimed at Potter he would have tried his damnedest to push the bloody idiot out of the way.

And that was what scared him. He would have made the same sacrifice Potter had without a second thought. He didn't even know why.

*

The rest of the afternoon went by in a flurry of color, and voices, and questions, and scurrying house-elves bringing snacks and refilling supplies. Draco had a pounding headache by the time the sun had started to sink into the horizon and Weasley had long since passed out in his uncomfortable chair snoring like a fog horn. Granger was still propped against his legs, a Restricted book on wards propped open in her lap its dusty pages nearly illegible.

He had to give her credit for perseverance. The girl was like a dog with a bone.

Things had been relatively peaceful for a time so it came as no surprise when the St. Mungo's and Ministry healers disrupted it.

Draco was jolted out of his thoughts by a haughty healer ordering him away from "Mister Potter's" bed.

"No." Draco said as if it was just that simple.

"I beg your pardon!" The healer blustered. "That was not a request, young man. That was an order."

"No." Draco repeated with a sneer. "You can't order me around. You have no authority here on Hogwarts grounds much less over me at all. I don't have to move a single muscle just because you ordered it."

The healer, a quick glance down at his robes confirmed that he was a _Ministry_ healer, turned rad with outrage. "Why you little- You will vacate your seat this instance or I will be forced to vacate it for you."

Draco stood up from his chair, heat and fire snapping in his sharp gray eyes. Hermione had finally come out from behind her book realizing that there was a problem and had begun to nudge Ron awake.

"Just fucking try it." He dared icily, hand twitching over his wand poking out of his pocket. "You won't be coherent enough for a second try, so I suggest you make the most of the first."

"Little Death Eater scum like you has no place at the bedside of Harry Potter." The healer hissed, showing his true motivations and his teeth. Draco wasn't intimidated in the least.

"And you think you're worthy to sit vigil over him?" Draco asked, scathingly. "You're not even worthy to wipe Harry Potter's hairy arse."

The healer gave a roar of outrage and lashed out quicker than Draco had been expecting, punching him in the jaw. He may have taken him by surprise with a physical blow, but Draco Malfoy was never fooled twice.

In the blink of an eye he had his wand pressed underneath the taller healer's chin, a snarl of anger and violence curling at his lips.

"Make one more move and you will be one head short of a complete corpse." Draco warned his voice low and menacing.

The healer's eyes widened, then narrowed. He began to reach for his own wand until he felt two more wands pressing painfully into his side and back.

Hermione and Ron were standing, their wands stabbing into the interloper healer, identical looks of fury and gravity on their faces.

The bushy headed witch spoke calmly, coldly, and clearly so that every single on looker heard every single word.

"Draco Malfoy has earned the right to watch over Harry Potter and no one can or will challenge that right." She stated decisively. "If any of you wish to question or protest this then do so at your own risk. We, neither of us, will stop or condemn Malfoy's cursing you to kingdom come." Beside her Ron nodded in confirmation, his eyes never leaving the offending healer at his wand's end.

The Infirmary was deadly silent. Every patient, healer, and Auror watching the scene with fascination and trepidation. Nobody spoke until Madam Pomfrey stepped forward her own wand clinched tightly in her hand ready to flash into use at any moment.

"Healer Steel, I suggest you leave my Infirmary and Hogwarts grounds right now." She stated leveling all her matronly anger and ferocity on him. "Do not return if you value your safety. The Board of Healers will be hearing from me."

Draco couldn't help the smirk of satisfaction as Healer Steel turned red in indignation, but backed away without a word. No one in the room breathed until he was out of the doors and they had closed behind him.

Madam Pomfrey looked around at the gawking wizards and witches in her Infirmary and snapped, "Get back to your duties!"

They jumped and quickly averted their eyes. Soon the din and bustle of the Infirmary was back in full swing. She sheathed her wand and bustled over to the three teens next to Potter's bed.

Draco loosened his grip on his wand and heaved a calming breath before he allowed himself to slip it back into his pocket. A companionable hand landed on his shoulder and he looked over to see Granger smile at him reassuringly. He nodded gratefully at her and looked back to Potter's comatose body.

It didn't come as nearly enough of a shock as it should have to realized that sometime in the middle of that whole ordeal that he'd grabbed onto Potter's hand in an effort to stay by his side.

Flexing his left hand, he was strangely comforted by the warmth he felt in Potter's skin and tightened his grip just a bit more. He wouldn't be forced away anytime soon.

"Mister Malfoy." Madam Pomfrey drew his attention. "Let me look at your face." She instructed.

He let her turn his face this way and that, prodding at his sore jaw, and murmuring a soothing spell along his rapidly bruising jaw. All the while his left hand held Potter's right, never relinquishing its hold.

Soon the medi-witch nodded to herself and stepped away leaving Draco to collapse back in his designated chair and Granger and Weasley to resume their previous activities.

Draco sighed and turned his body to face Potter's more obviously and studied their clasped hands. There was a bit of contrast in their skin tones, but it wasn't unappealing. Potter's skin was naturally tanned from hours of riding a broom in the sun and Draco's was permanently in a state of near perfect paleness, barring the occasionally unpreventable sunburn.

Much to his disgust he noticed that Potter's nails were bitten to the quick and jagged. Sighing heavily, Draco resolved to transfigure himself a fingernail file and smooth them himself if Potter didn't wake up soon. That thought made him crack a dry smile.

My, the things your brain will think up when you're absolutely, bat shit exhausted.

Despite his exhaustion, Draco refused to allow himself rest. He had been threatened with leaving Potter's bed too many times. He would continue his vigil awake.

Absently he stared at the scars on the back of Potter's hand and stroked his thumb over them. They were smoother and paler than the rest of Harry's skin. Draco mused that he might even be able to read them if he closed his eyes and just concentrated.

Harry's hand gave a twitch and Draco's eyes nearly strained themselves as he snapped them up to see if he'd awakened. No such luck. An involuntary spasm, but it still made him smile. Even unconscious Potter was still playing with him.

A thud in his chest wiped the smile away. If that killing curse had done its job, Potter would be dead and Draco wouldn't have anyone who offered a challenge on the Quidditch field. Half the excitement came from trying to beat Potter to the Snitch.

With a sinking realization, Draco sighed and lowered his head once more to stare blindly at their clasped hands. If Harry never woke, he would most likely quit playing Quidditch. It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying if he didn't have Scar-head to try and beat.

Huffing out a breath, Draco realized that the majority of his life would feel lacking if the bloody idiot decided to tap out. For so long they'd practically revolved around each other that just the thought of never having to stare at the back of Potter's messy head, or across the Great Hall watching him during meals, or pick fights with him in the halls made him want to break down and cry.

A shuddering breath was sucked into his lungs as he tightened his grip to nearly white knuckled around Potter's.

The stupid git had been a part of his life, a constant dependable bit of his life since he was bloody eleven years-old. He couldn't leave it now. Harry couldn't just leave him now.

Exhaustion, stress, injury, nearly being kill and arrested all fell down upon him with an unbearable weight. The sun had set and the other patients were either drugged or unconscious, the healers were monitoring them silently and Granger and Weasley were asleep. Draco had to breathe through his nose slowly and blink furiously to keep the tears from springing to his eyes.

Fucking Potter had to jump in front of a bloody killing curse to save him. He felt his throat start to close up in frustration and helplessness. Harry had to put his life ahead of his own. Had to find him worthy of saving. Had to bloody care.

That made the ache in his chest strengthen all the more. Because he cared as well. He would have jumped in front of a killing curse for Harry Potter, he would have saved his life if he was able, he would have done everything possible to keep that insufferable git breathing and alive and there.

That's why it hurt so much, he realized. Why the prospect of Harry dying and leaving him alone, leaving him to be just Draco Malfoy hurt so much. Seven years they'd fought with passion and anger and ferocity. Seven years they'd watched one another, and stalked one another, and sabotaged one another only to see more to their rivals than would have expected.

"Come on, Potter." Draco whispered into the back of Harry's scarred hand. "Wake up, you utter git. I refuse to be left alone with these imbeciles." His lips brushed over Harry's scars making the lump in his throat squeeze a little tighter.

A tear escaped his hold and Draco didn't bother to wipe it away. He just wrapped his other hand around Harry's and pressed the warm appendage to his cheek, his eyes staring at Harry's face silently begging for a flutter of an eyelid.

"Wake up, wake up." He urged sounding half angry, half pleading. "You fucking horrible shit! How dare you save my life then get out of answering for it." He accused knowing full-well he most likely sounded like a lunatic.

He knew that he never failed to get a reaction out of Potter by goading him, insulting him.

"You're an idiot." He declared voice still a whisper as he pressed Harry's hand to his lips and completely ignored his tears running down his face. "What kind of an ignoramus jumps in front of a killing curse? You, Potter, that's who."

He fell silent and just watched Harry's motionless face, his lips still warmed by his skin, his hands still clutching desperately to his.

"Please, Potter?" He breathed inaudibly. "Please, Harry? Don't-don't go." He whispered not even caring if he was being a melodramatic fool. If Harry died a bit of Draco would die with him.

"I-I... I can't stand the thought of this retched castle without you in it to annoy me." Draco's breath caught in a sudden hitch. He stopped and gasped for air trying to calm himself from the full on panic he could feel building in the vicinity of his heart.

"I don't want you to go." He murmured pressing his forehead to Harry's shoulder, his hand still pressed to his cheek, to his lips. "I've just begun to-to... to get to know you." He admitted gray tearing eyes still staring at Harry's immovable eyelids.

"I haven't gotten a chance to say that I-... to ask you if you-... If you die, if you never wake up I never will." He trailed off and closed his eyes in sadness that had finally gotten a chance to overwhelm him.

Scooting as far onto Harry's bed as he could without actually leaving his chair, Draco buried his face in Harry's neck and nestled their intertwined hands into the crook of his own shoulder. Comforted by the warmth of Harry's hand against the skin of his neck and the smell of Harry's hair and skin in his nose, Draco let his silent tears continue to fall, not caring to stop them.

*

Harry felt like he'd been floating in nothingness for quite awhile and was only just realizing it. He could hear a voice, a familiar voice through the black around him, but couldn't exactly understand what it was saying.

His body rocked back in forth in the black, as if in a hammock or in a pool. It was comforting, but unsettling. Shouldn't he be fighting in a battle? Death Eaters in the Great Hall, Aurors and the Order fighting tooth and nail to over take them? Draco Malfoy about to be killed by his insane aunt?

A gasp of breath sucked into his stagnant lungs shocking him out of his rocking. Malfoy was about to be hit with a killing curse. He remembered that. He remembered apparating inside of Hogwarts to push Draco out of the way. He remembered being hit in his place.

Still in his blackness the rocking did not resume, but he could think clearly once more so he didn't mind. He'd taken a killing curse for Draco Malfoy. That thought rolled around in his head for a moment. The realization that he'd died for Draco Malfoy making it's self known then drifting away unimportantly.

Surprisingly, or not depending on who you ask, that thought didn't bother him nearly as much as it should. Draco had long since drifted away from his childhood persona of snooty antagonist, and Harry had watched him make that transition in fascination. It had been quite sometime when Harry had realized that Draco was no longer the arsehole spoiled brat he used to be.

Harry had grown to respect him, admire him even. He held a firm seat as the leader of Slytherin House with firmness and fairness. He protected the younger years from the older, and guided the older years by example. Some examples better than others, Harry had to admit, but nonetheless Draco had proven himself worthy of the title Prince of Slytherin, worthy of Harry's respect in more than just that.

Intelligent, sharp, scathing, insufferable, handsome, Harry recognized all of this in his former rival. Of course it helped that neither had been real keen on their animosity that year. They both had bigger fish to fry.

Yes, Harry decided with a nod into his bleak blackness. He was not disappointed to have died for Draco Malfoy. Quite the contrary. He was... happy that Draco would have a chance to prove his worth to others like he had inadvertently proven to Harry.

Harry's one regret, he sighed as he stared at nothing, was that he'd never had the chance to tell Draco that he-... to ask Draco if he-... He hadn't wanted to die and be forced to always wonder.

Slowly the blackness began to recede puzzling Harry. It drifted away as if on a breeze leaving him feeling heavy and pained and exhausted and drained. Ugh... not dead then. Death wasn't supposed to hurt like this.

He could feel a burning pain in his chest directly over his sternum. Must have been where the curse hit him, he realized foggily. Peaking his eyes open he was never so happy that it seemed to be nighttime than he was then.

As he started to regain feeling in his body and awareness of his surroundings, Harry realized there was a face buried quite thoroughly into the side of his neck and his skin was damp from what had to be tears.

He nearly groaned then. When he cracked his eyes open fully and adjusted his vision he glanced over and was thankful for not having made a sound.

None other than Draco Malfoy was curled against him, silent tears wetting his skin, hands wrapped near painfully tight around one of his. A swell of hope and happiness nearly burst from Harry's chest.

Looking down at Draco's face, he was struck with just how beautiful he was. Silver blond hair was like silk against his jaw, neck and shoulder, his full lips pursed in stress and his pale brow wrinkled in worry. Harry couldn't have been happier to be alive.

Gently, Harry straightened his right index finger and caressed it against Draco's ear. It was soft and warm, Harry just smiled and tilted his head enough to inhale the smell of Draco's shampoo.

Jolting from his exhausted defeat, Draco blinked his eyes open and waited a beat to make sure he wasn't just imagining Harry's finger stroking his ear and his lips pressed against his hair. No, he wasn't imagining it at all.

Tilting his head up, Draco was met with the most beautiful and welcome pair of green eyes he'd ever seen. They just smiled back at him, the lips that went with them turning up at the corners.

"Harry?" He breathed almost unwilling to believe his eyes.

Harry just smiled at him and turned his head enough to nuzzle his nose against Draco's. "Hey." He whispered, his voice raspy and rough.

Draco's heart beat once, twice, before he broke into a very un-Malfoy like smile and untangled his hands from Harry's. Grasping the sides of his face, Draco held him almost tenderly as he pressed their lips together desperately.

Returning the motions wholeheartedly, Harry threaded his hands through Draco's tangled hair and moved their lips together soothingly, their tongues touching reassuringly.

Breaking away for a moment, Draco breathed deeply through his flushed lips and glared weakly into Harry's green eyes. "What the fuck were you thinking, Potter? Don't you ever do anything so stupid ever again! Do you understand me?" He warned only to be silenced with Harry's mouth once more.

"I'll try not to." Harry murmured, lips nipping apologetically at Draco's. "I promise."

Draco let out a soft moan and tilted his head enough to nuzzle his nose against Harry's again. "I'll hold you to that." He pressed a soft kiss to Harry's lips again, teasingly. "'Cause if you don't I'll fucking kill you myself, Harry. Don't think I won't."

Green eyes sparkled with mirth and tenderness and desire. "Alright, Draco." Harry whispered, laughter in his voice as he pulled him in for another kiss. "Alright."

There was no more talking. Answers could wait. Questions could wait. Everybody else could just bloody fucking wait. They had a rival to kiss desperately, a childhood nemesis to hold tenderly. Everything else could wait.

*

The End.


End file.
